Best Bundles Poems
What flowers do we most cherish?
Ones with such aroma they consume our senses,
as sweet purfumed, honeysuckle clad fences,
or those of brilliant hues springing boldly from the ground,
holding our eyes captive, as do pictures in clouds?
Which clouds do we most welcome?
Dreamy, soft ones of contrasting white,
sauntering seductively across baby blue skies,
or those billowing dark, mocking tidal waves at sea,
pouring life sustaining liquid to desert Joshua trees?
What trees are we most thankful for?
Bearers of fruit, so succulent and sweet;
releasing bundles of manna right at our feet,
or those with strong arms stretched over the dust,
lending cool somber shade; a resting haven for us?
Whish of us is the most beautiful?
Ones with perfect features to gaze upon,
as earthly angels dancing round kings thrones,
or those who cherish friends, and have learned life's lessons;
welcomed opportunities to give, and been thankful for blessings?
By David Kavanagh
On second thoughts
When instinct becomes
an educated guess
And improvisation
demands quick redress
Like thinking on one’s feet
if too drunk to stand
Be found all at sea
throwing up on dry land
Twisted situations
we find ourselves in
When bundles of joy
reek original sin
Smack on the butt
for showing a bit of cheek
Do everything perfect
get labelled a freak
Gestures, signals,
often appear to confuse
High five or fist bump
sweaty handshake defused
One or two fingers:
the bird a sign of peace
Kneel with respect
submissive purr on a leash
Diversions, promises,
never black and white
Passive aggression
silent treatment for slight
Jack in the box, ripper
jumps out with a knife
Break a leg, for the
performance of his life
Police warning: never
mess around with guns
Gut reaction sparks a
stampede, or the runs
Playing it very cool,
whilst feeling much heat
Praying devoutly,
burnt at stake for deceit
Sticking out one’s tongue
in contempt, no a kiss!
Sigh of relief
they were just taking the piss
Such is living, such is death
come friend or foe
On second thoughts
syllabic verse, or sh!tshow
By David Kavanagh
hms
Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.
Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.
White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive
Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.
Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive
Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.
Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently waving as robins flit all around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.
I saw truant clouds wading through late evening sky.
With sunset, they got dyed in varying shades,
Forming into configurations of differing shape and size!
Giants, mountains and raw bundles of fluffy wool,
To be woven into yet a hundred patterns.
Twilight shadows slowly began to fall,
Like gauzy gossamer webs here and there
Night came stepping down from the heights.
I heard the wind singing through the leaves.
Their sweet cadence lifted my moods.
From the forest, a nightingale echoed a happy note.
Crickets in chorus chanted in sonorous tones.
As I looked on, from creamy cotton clouds,
Full moon emerged like a seductive temptress.
What a majestic sight of incomparable beauty!
Stars were seen as silver sequences stitched on,
An unfurling cerulean veil of chiffon silk.
I felt so weightless, being lifted to great heights.
As I lost myself in the irresistible charm of the night,
A thousand butterflies of joy danced within me.
The most social thing on earth
Social than the Social Networking Sites
Tall with straight uniform trunk
Unbranched trunk topped with a
Tuft fanlike or featherlike leaves.
Cresting with a plume of long feathery fronds
Making a graceful silhouette of unique beauty
With spiral arrangement of its wood fibers
Which makes it a tree of unusual suppleness and strength
Large evergreen leaves
With bundles of vascular tissue
Scattered throughout the trunks.
Abundant throughout the tropics
And thrive in almost every inhabitat therein
The quintessential image of relaxed and elegant lifestyle
A good friend in need,
A good friend indeed
Because of its versatility,
Many people cannot do without it.
Having as many uses as the year has days.
And noted for productivity in the bible
Imagine the way it comes to its full bearing
After ten to fifteen years on earth.
And still continue to bear for nearly a hundred years.
Of great economic importance,
Providing food, fibre, wine and oil
Widely used in landscaping for its exotic appearance
A useful ornamental tree
This social palm tree
In times like this it’s pertinent to stroke the longest cord
for hummer is impertinent and seldom brings discord.
Each slippery politician who runs yelling, “Come on Board!”
is asking for some hummer from constituents lapboards.
He wants them on their knees paying, for taxing fills his hoard
Just a little hummer raises bundles and gets Johnny Boys accord.
And, if you think it just ain’t right to make a joke of Nancy*
then let me tell you baby, your hummers just not fancy!
Hell, you have to laugh at what they say, and their fancy stroking
for if you took them seriously, even Heimlich would be choking!
So, just remember next time your party yells "Come on Board!"
that if you do, you must expect the meaning is untoward.
*Nancy / Nancy boy - It is the opposite of being hard.
In cold weather a nancy boy would dress up in a coat,
hat, gloves and scarf and a hard guy would wear a t-shirt.
*hummer a slang word for a type of sex
** humour/hummer it's a play on words
bundles of cotton
have sprouted from mirrored glass
in luminous bouquets
________________________________
8/4/15 Visual #6 (Form: Collom Lune)
Written for the "Pretty Little Lunes" contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
He shivers as he steps on the porch,
The sharp icy air gives a certain scorch.
As he steps out from the arbors protection,
out to where there is no affection.
A month or so later,
the boy feels oh so much greater.
The sun shining down,
where there is no such thing as a frown.
But now there is a long process to get from season to season,
and you get tired of Winter's cold and sharp treason.
So as we walk through the steps, enjoy the end of Winter's blast,
just as you did when it began and you said "At last!"
As Winter comes joy fills the world,
as snowballs get thrown and hurled.
The cheer, the bliss begins with a snow,
however you come to remember and know,
that Winter lugs on and on until Spring.
Though not very easy,
we must try to enjoy the breezy and sneezy.
So as the snow melts into the dirt underneath,
people will put away festive décor, trees, and a wreath.
People then change from heavy bundles of clothes,
and on to short sleeves is where the style arose.
The used-to-be snowflakes turn now to dandelion seeds,
flying to and fro, and landing where it needs.
A pleasing fragrant of Honeysuckle, Jasmine,
awhile bumble bees come flying, trying to get in.
Low and behold Spring is in,
while once a year it begins again.
Naught But Smoke In The Wind
Ethereal is…as ethereal does
Bundles of atoms is what we be
Empty space wrapped in cosmic fuzz
Electrons trying to break free
We be something…just not very much
We’re not very material atall
Just wee Protons, Neutrons and such
Smooshed all together in a ball
Yet we think…reason and wonder
What our place in the cosmos is
Question, posit and ponder
Is there more, or is this all there tis?
Our origins are in the furnaces of space
Our destinies as fickle as the weather
Our lives be brief, but our souls stay apace
…Our atoms fate…is to live forever…
The mind is an echo
Reflecting someone's belief
Like the notion of death
That leads us to grief
Merely bundles of thought
Tied up in the past
Forming identity layers
We compare and contrast
Programmed for survival
Hardwired with fear
Emotional alarm systems
For when I am not here
The mind is deceiving
With a compass I roam
One dwells in yourself
To find the way home
Do you remember the day we met.
I knew right then we'd be together forever.
Do you remember our wedding day.
You floated towards me like an ivory angel.
Do you remember the children being born.
Small bundles of arms and legs, making our lives complete.
Do you remember our first grandchild.
Precious like our own but less responsibility.
Do you remember our retirement holiday.
Warm beaches and blue skies, just the two of us at last.
Do you remember the first time you didn't come home.
I searched and searched and found you lost and scared.
Do you remember the kind doctors at the hospital telling you not to worry.
You had me to take care of you.
Do you remember waking in the middle of the night.
Thinking there was a stranger next to you.
Do you remember my name.
Do you remember me.
Do you remember.
Every dream in my heart is a hope for the future
Tied to my wishes by bundles of rhyme
Sewn to your life by a poetry suture
Dreams are reality stretched out of time
Lying in bed when I ought to be sleeping
Dreaming of dreaming is madness I know
When I succumb to the torpor that's creeping
Take me to paradise where love's on show
Now I can whisper with fingers to tease you
Inside my head you are ready for me
Lips join the fight as I struggle to please you
Tell me you love me and set my heart free
Why do I wake when in sleep we're together
Holding you close is the reason for dreams
Now I can feel you as soft as a feather
Being in love is as sweet as it seems
Dream me some happiness weave me an ending
Find me tonight in some dreams of your own
Drink in a glass of the love I am sending
You're in the World so I'm never alone
When instinct becomes
an educated guess
And improvisation
demands quick redress
Like thinking on one’s feet
if too drunk to stand
Be found all at sea
throwing up on dry land
Twisted situations
we find ourselves in
When bundles of joy
reek original sin
Smack on the butt
for showing a bit of cheek
Do everything perfect
be labelled a freak
Gestures, signals,
often appear to confuse
High five, fist bump
a sweaty handshake defused
One or two fingers:
the bird a sign of peace
Kneel with respect
submissive purr on a leash
Diversions, promises,
never black and white
Passive aggression
silent treatment for slight
Jack in the box, ripper
jumps out with a knife
Break a leg, for the
performance of his life
Police warning: never
mess around with guns
Gut reaction sparks a
stampede, or the runs
Playing it very cool,
whilst feeling much heat
Praying devoutly,
burnt at stake for deceit
Sticking out one’s tongue
in contempt, no a kiss!
Sigh of relief
they were just taking the piss
Such is living, such is death
come friend or foe
On second thoughts
syllabic verse, or sh!tshow
By David Kavanagh
hms
`
Even in darkness,
when a moonless sky
preaches fear from a pulpit of shadows
pointing elongated fingers…
when walls crumble
into a rubble strewn alleyway
and graffiti issues spray paint threats
on frantic facades dripping sabotage…
and kindness remains
hidden away in sealed envelopes,
unaddressed and undelivered,
discarded in bundles of false accusations
Her beauty shines unending
in effervescent streams,
illuminating in a photograph, poetry
and a kind word from quivering lips
caressing my heart
in watercolor enchantments
and pastel pleasures…
showing me it is not what, but who
for this darkness is hers,
weighted thoughts on soft shoulders
binding wrists in tethered worries
and still she smiles . . . for me
Cotton And White Clouds
Cotton squeezes spongy soft in sanguine undertows
Flows calmly through the gentle fingers slow
Babies feel them caress their tender skin and sigh
Thin fibers rise to weave a dream of pure new white
Through their tiny minds as they recline to nap
Invisible oceans come and wash thoughts clean
Clouds envy them within the realm of reason
Sleeping on blue skies like baby silent whispers
Marshmallow mountains of ghostly fluff move up above
Over the innocent bundles of pure love
Clean and clear, floating ever slowly
Evaporate as they draw close
Tranquil cotton finds white clouds in heavenly repose
Blissful just like Christmas snow
Before they disappear